Chapter 9 - Gabriel
My house smells like a fucking forest.
This tree takes up half the Great Room, its tip scraping the vaulted ceiling beams twenty feet up. It smells like a forest exploded in here. Sharp pine. Crisp winter air.
It’s aggressive. It’s intrusive.
And I don’t hate it.
Burl Ives is crooning about a holly jolly Christmas from the surround sound speakers I haven't turned on in years, and Blair is swaying her hips to the beat as she circles the twelve-foot Noble Fir.
She looks ridiculous.
She looks like everything I’ve been missing.
I dismissed the staff an hour ago. Jaxon and his team are patrolling the perimeter, but inside these walls, we’re alone.
"It needs more lights," Blair says.
She’s climbed up a ladder, stretching up to drape a string of white bulbs over a high branch. Her coat is gone. She’s wearing a sweater dress that hugs every curve and ends mid-thigh. When she reaches up, the hem rises.
It’s torture.
It’s the best show on earth.
I’m sitting in the leather armchair near the fireplace, a tumbler of whiskey in my hand, watching her.
Watching the way the soft fabric rides up her legs.
Watching the smooth, pale skin of her thighs exposed to the cool air of the room.
I haven't turned the heat up. I like seeing her shiver. I like knowing she’ll come to me for warmth later.
"We have ten boxes of lights on it already," I say, taking a sip. The burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the fire in my blood.
I can’t look away from her.
"It’s not enough," she insists, looking over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed. "It needs to be perfect."
She turns back to the tree, humming some tune that’s been stuck in my head since we left the lot.
She’s happy.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I shouldn't want to ruin it. I should let her have her moment. I should let her decorate this massive, ridiculous tree and listen to her terrible music and drink the hot chocolate she made.
But I’m not a good man.
I’m a starving one.
And seeing her up there, vulnerable, unaware of the predator sitting ten feet away... it snaps something inside me.
I set the glass down on the side table. Blair doesn't hear it. She’s too busy trying to get the lights perfectly straight.
I stand up.
I don't make a sound as I cross the room. I move like a ghost. Like the shadow I am.
I stop right behind the ladder.
My eyes trace the line of her legs up to where they disappear under the gray knit.
"Gabriel?" she asks, pausing.
I don't answer.
I reach up and grip her hips.
She gasps, her hands gripping the ladder for balance. "What are you doing?"
"Helping," I lie.
I slide my hands up, gathering the material of her dress. I bunch it up around her waist.
Her skin is cool to the touch. My hands are hot.
She shudders.
"Gabriel, I'm on a ladder," she says. “Stop. I might fall.”
But she doesn't move away. She leans back, trusting me.
"I've got you," I promise.
I step between the rungs. I press my chest against her back, trapping her between my body and the tree. With our height difference, she’s lined up in the perfectly as she stands one step up on the ladder. The scent of pine is overwhelming now, mixing with her sweetness.
I’m hard. Painfully hard.
I haven't even touched her really, and I’m ready to burst.
"Spread your legs," I order, my mouth right against her ear.
She whimpers. "We're decorating."
"We're about to be fucking."
She hesitates for a second, then obeys. She moves her feet as wide as they’ll go on the rungs, opening herself to me.
Fuck.
The view is going to kill me.
I slip my fingers into the side of her panties and slide them down to her knees. She’s wet. I can see the sheen of it, smell the scent of what I do to her.
I don't waste time.
I don't undress. Don't have the patience for foreplay or to get us to the bedroom. I step back just enough to undo my belt and shove my hand into my pants, freeing my cock.
My phone vibrates in my pocket against my thigh.
I ignore it.
I line myself up, ready to push inside her.
"Hold on tight," I growl.
I thrust up.
She moans and her body jerks, the ladder wobbling, but I hold her steady.
Every inch of me is buried inside her body.
Goddamn.
I freeze, letting her adjust to the invasion. She’s tight. So fucking tight. It feels like home. It feels like victory.
"Gabriel," she sobs, her head falling back against my shoulder.
I start to move.
My phone vibrates again, and this time it doesn’t fucking stop.
I grit my teeth, ignoring it while I pull back and thrust again, harder this time. But it just keeps fucking buzzing.
"Fuck," I bite out, reaching into my pocket with one hand, keeping the other on Blair’s hip to keep her in place. My fingers dent her skin and I hope I leave marks.
I reach into my pocket, intending to silence it. But when I glance at the screen, my jaw clenches.
Ryder.
The little shit has perfect timing.
Rage flares in my gut, hot and toxic. No doubt he’s calling to whine. To complain after James Thornton undoubtedly riled him up.
I look at the screen. I look at the back of Blair’s head.
A dark, twisted idea forms in my mind.
It’s cruel. It’s unnecessary.
It’s perfect.
"Be quiet," I whisper to Blair.
Her eyes widen. "What?"
I answer the call and hit speaker.
I set the phone on the ladder shelf, right next to a box of glass ornaments.
"What," I bark into the phone.
I pull my hips back slowly, agonizingly, until just the head remains inside her. Blair’s trembling. She realizes what I’ve done. She tries to clamp down, to pull away, but I’m not letting her go. I drive into her harder, a silent warning.
Not a sound.
"Dad?" Ryder’s voice fills the space between us. He sounds agitated. "Did you seriously tell James Thornton that Blair’s working for you?"
I grind my thumb into Blair’s hip bone as I begin a rhythm. Slow. Punishing. In. Out. She squeezes her eyes shut, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a moan.
"I did," I say, my voice steady even as sweat beads on my skin and prickles at the back of my neck. "Is that a problem?"
I pull almost all the way out, then slam back in.
Blair’s whole body shakes. A tiny, high-pitched whimper escapes her throat.
"What was that noise?" Ryder asks.
"The TV," I lie smoothly even as I bite back my own groan when Blair tightens around my dick. "I'm watching the news. Focus, Ryder."
"It's embarrassing!" he shouts. "She’s my ex-girlfriend. You can’t just hire her. Everyone is going to think I couldn't handle her so my daddy had to step in."
I almost laugh.
He has no idea.
I’m standing here, balls deep in the woman he threw away, actively working on replacing him.
"You couldn't handle her," I say, reaching around to cup Blair’s tit through her sweater. I pinch her nipple. She bucks against me and I do it again. "That's exactly why I stepped in."
"I dumped her!" Ryder protests. "She was boring and a dead fish in bed."
I look at the woman currently trembling apart in my arms. The woman who is taking every inch of me and begging for more with her body language.
"Maybe you just didn't know which buttons to push," I say darkly.
"She’s a gold digger," Ryder spits. "She’s probably manipulating you right now."
I look down at her. She is manipulating me. She has me wrapped around her little finger. And I have never been happier to be used.
I pick up the pace.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The sound of skin on skin is rhythmic. Wet.
"Are you... are you applauding something?" Ryder asks, confused.
"I told you, I'm watching the news," I snap. "Someone just got what was coming to them."
Blair is close. I can feel her tightening around me. She’s fighting it, trying to stay silent, but she’s losing.
"Whatever," Ryder huffs. "James offered me a job, by the way. A real job. Since you won't give me any actual responsibility."
"James is using you," I say, my focus narrowing to the sensation of Blair’s internal muscles milking me as my head falls back as my eyes close. "He wants access to Hollis Properties. If you take that job, you're out. For good."
"You always threaten that!"
"Try me."
I’m so fucking close.
I grab Blair’s hair, pulling her head back until her ear is next to my mouth. I bite the shell of her ear.
"Be a good boy, Ryder," I groan out, the words having a double meaning as I drive into his ex-girlfriend one final, devastating time. "Do as you're told."
"You're such an asshole," Ryder mutters.
He hangs up.
The second the line goes dead, Blair screams.
She comes violently, her body bowing against the ladder.
And then I’m following her over the edge.
Falling, falling, fucking falling.
I empty myself into her, groaning as the pleasure rips through me. I pour every drop of frustration, every ounce of rage, every bit of obsession I have into her womb.
I breed her under the light of the Christmas tree while the ghost of my son’s voice fades into the silence.
It’s an experience I know I’ll be chasing the high of for the rest of my life.
I hold her there until the last tremors fade.
I’m panting. She’s gasping for air.
The room is silent again, save for the crackle of the fire.
I pull out slowly, hating having to leave her body and already counting the seconds until I can get back inside her.
I fix her panties before I adjust my clothes and pick up my phone from the ladder.
“Don’t let any of me spill out.”
Blair turns around. Her eyes are wide. She looks like she doesn't know whether to slap me or kiss me.
"You're insane," she whispers.
"Certifiably." I tuck the phone back into my pocket. I reach out and wipe a tear from her cheek with my thumb. "You did well, little bird."
She shivers.
"I hate you," she says, but she leans into my touch.
"Liar."
I kiss her forehead.
"Go get changed," I tell her, slapping her ass gently. "Wear something sexy."
"Why?" she asks, still leaning against me for support, though I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it.
"Because you were such a good girl," I say, picking up my tumbler of whiskey and downing the rest in one swallow. "I’m taking you to Mulberry. I think it’s time you saw exactly what kind of man you’ve gotten into bed with."
"Where are we going?"
I smirk.
"To church," I say. "But not the kind you’re used to."
Romeo’s running the fights tonight, and I feel like watching something bleed.